


Blasphemy

by Chiyume



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Wings, Angelic Grace, BAMF Castiel, Blasphemy, Bottom Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Dom Castiel, Grace Kink, Grace Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Power Play, Rough Sex, Sub Dean, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Wall Sex, Wing Kink, Winged Castiel, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/pseuds/Chiyume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex with Castiel always gets rough when Dean takes the Lord’s Name in vain.<br/>Dean makes sure to use this to his own advantage whenever he can...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blasphemy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Buckysaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckysaur/gifts), [one-to-a-million (tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=one-to-a-million+%28tumblr%29).



> Yentl likes wall sex, and one-to-a-million on tumblr loves wing!kink, so this happened.  
> What can I say; they both have a bad influence on me... ;)  
> (Thank you guys so much for helping me, even during the holidays - you're the best, really!)  
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

Cas has him up against the wall within half a frantic heartbeat, lips already worrying a sore bruise on Dean’s neck before his back even collides with the hard surface. Castiel’s hands grasp around his upper arms so hard they’re bound to leave marks later as the heavy rustle of midnight feathers fills up Dean’s ears, and travels down his spine in a rush of heated fire. He shudders, the sensation of Castiel’s teeth grazing his skin tearing a startled moan out of his throat. Castiel growls in response and Dean flinches as his own hands come up to claw desperately at the sleeve of a tan trench coat.

“Cas…! _Fuck_!”

The angel pays him no heed, and swats his hand away with a huff and a glare. For a moment, the only thing existing in Dean’s world is the electrical blue surge in the angel’s eyes, and then there’s a shift of something else behind those dark pools of want and fury. Before he can say anything, Castiel’s kissing him, tongue pushing in between already parted lips and claiming the hollow of his mouth like a predator staking out its prey. It drags along the roof of his mouth, glides by his teeth and thrusts against Dean’s own while Dean tries his best to reciprocate, but the lack of rhythm doesn’t seem to bother the angel much; in fact, it doesn’t throw him off in the slightest, and doesn’t stop those chapped lips from smothering Dean’s beyond a state of absolute disrepair.

Then Cas has a hand down the front of Dean’s jeans, and with an angry tear of fabric the top button pops and shoots across the floor. Barely contained grace crackles at the tips of slender fingers as they grasp around him, pulling his flushed and aching need free from the confinements of his boxers. Dean has to bite down on his own lip in order not to let out the less-than-manly whimper that threatens to escape his mouth. His hips stutter and his eyes roll back into his head when Cas starts jerking him off, fast and rough. Dean’s hands dig into the plaster of the wall behind him, nails scraping the cheap paint off as his fingers curl into fists by his sides.

“Cas…! W-wait, slow do- oh!”

“Be quiet.” Cas snarls, but the movement of his hand stills slightly, and Dean’s knees practically melt away from underneath him when the warmth of Castiel’s palm seeps into his skin and joins the already pooling heat in the pit of his stomach. Dean’s hands come up to catch in Castiel’s clothing once more, and this time the angel leaves them be; allowing Dean to clench around his upper arms with fingers that tremble with every upstroke of the hand working the hunter below the waistline.

Dean is beautiful like this. So needy and desperate with his eyes screwed shut, and swollen, spit slicked lips parted in loud pants and moans. The sounds he makes cause ripples to spread throughout Castiel’s grace like rings on water, until they reverberate through his entire being and echoe within every primal corner of his vessel’s body. It is unbearable.

Black feathers skirt the skin beneath the edge of a ridden up t-shirt, and Dean’s eyes flare open with a gasp.

“Shit—!”

Dean’s right hand fumbles, tries to swat the feathers away, but Castiel grabs it and pins the limb over the hunter’s head, leaning in to swallow the human’s protest against the seal of their lips.

Castiel's wings move and like an extra pair of hands, they dip underneath washed out cotton and gently skim over ribs and taut muscles, eliciting delicious shivers from the man in the angel’s grasp. Grace coils through the feather-clad limbs, an electric tingle following in their wake, and Dean bucks and moans shamelessly as beads of sweat form on his temple and roll down the nape of his neck, while his head tosses from side to side in desperation.

The hand on Castiel’s upper arm clenches hard, and Castiel swipes his thumb over the head of the cock in his hand in response, earning himself a strangled moan from Dean in return.

“Jesus _fuck_ , Cas!”

Castiel’s wings instantly rip away, and then Dean’s shoved up harder against the wall, a warning growl to his ear.

“What did I tell you about blaspheming, Dean?”

“Cas, c’mon…” Dean pants. ”I can’t handle it, you know I can’t. Just… damnit, Cas, _please_.” He’s begging now, he knows that, but it’s nothing new. Not when Cas is like this; a wild, unstoppable force that leaves him blinded. Not when Dean knows that the slightest push from those nimble fingers against his skin would be enough to send him hurling over the edge so hard he’d black out from the sheer force of it. Not when Castiel’s wings curl in to hover over his body once again, fluttering over skin and clothes, teasing, but not touching.

“Please, what?” the angel whispers against the soft skin just below the curve of Dean’s ear. “Tell me, Dean…”

Dean can feel the length of the other’s cock rub against his thigh in slow, determined rolls of Castiel’s hips, and the sensation is almost enough to blow his mind right there. Castiel’s hand is barely moving now, dragging slowly and deliberately up and down his erection in torturously steady strokes. Dean’s so close he could be dying for all he knows; his head spinning and heart thundering against his chest so hard it could punch a hole straight through his ribcage. And then Castiel’s hand stops, and it takes all of Dean’s conjured strength not to whimper.

“What exactly is it that you cannot handle?” Castiel asks, and one of his feathers sweeps across Dean’s exposed ribs in a soundless whisper, making Dean arch, with a high pitched whine escaping his throat, limbs shaking as the grace travels through his body in a sharp burst of electric tingles.

“ _That…!_ ” he gasps, his hips thrusting forward in search of some kind of friction, but Castiel’s hand moves along with him, giving him nothing for his efforts. He can hear the sound of the angel’s strained breathing as the rhythm of the still clothed cock riding the ridge of his thigh grows increasingly persistent. His fingers tighten in the fabric of the trench coat and he pulls, forcing the angel closer.

“Your wings-” He flinches when the dark mass behind Castiel’s back rustles in response, as if it knows that it’s being spoken about. “You know I can’t take it when you use them like that. Please, Cas, you have to… I want to—!”

Trying to get his point across, he pushes his thigh higher, and his heart skips more beats than what could possibly be healthy when Castiel lets out a low groan in return that sounds like the ominous growl of thunder rolling in from the distance. Lightning strikes him seconds later when Castiel’s hand picks up the pace once more, fisting over his cock with a dry slapping of skin on skin. Dean moans breathlessly, head canted back against the wall and eyes looking down at the angel from underneath fluttering eyelids. His body is spasming; twitching and quivering. The angel’s hips snap forwards as Castiel’s discipline falters, and Dean lets out a trembling gasp when he feels black feathers brush against him once again.

“Christ…!”

He knows that it’s coming, but he’s still not given enough time to react. Castiel’s hand grasps around his shoulder, and with a startled moan Dean is spun around and shoved up hard against the wall, Castiel’s other hand in a punishing grip around his hip.

“ _Blasphemy_ , Dean…!” the angel growls, voice low and dangerous.

“Sorry.” Dean barely manages to hold back the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t mean—”

“Quiet.”

Castiel’s fingers suddenly curl amongst the short strands of hair at the back of Dean’s head, and Dean shuts his mouth with a muffled moan. He’s so turned on he doesn’t know what to do with himself and he can feel the weight of Castiel’s eyes as they rake down the length of his body, like a physical touch to his skin. The hand around his hip shifts, pulls back and a finger hooks on to the edge of the jeans and boxers which are still hanging treacherously low on his hips.

“You’re as disrespectful as ever,” Castiel comments dryly, and Dean’s jaw clenches from the effort to keep himself quiet when the grip around his clothes tightens. Castiel slowly pulls his jeans and boxers down, allowing them to pool around his ankles with a faint rustle.

“Perhaps it’s time we did something about that? I can only assume….”

Dean’s breath hitches when Castiel lets go of his hair in favour of shoving his hand down the pocket of Dean’s leather jacket, fishing out a small, plastic tube which he holds out for Dean to inspect.

“… that’s the reason you brought this along?”

The corner of Dean’s lip quirks up in a little smile that just barely manages to keep itself on the humble side of apologetic.

“Nothing wrong with being prepared,” he offers with a breathy laugh that quickly morphs into a dirty moan when the fingers around his hips give him a warning squeeze.

“Indeed not,” Castiel agrees and Dean suppresses a shiver when he hears the suggestive flick of the cap as the lube gets popped open.

The first, wet push against his entrance sends sparks flying through his body and he’s suddenly very glad that the wall’s there to help him stay upright when Castiel starts to work him open. He moves fast, a lot faster than normal, but Dean doesn’t care. He’s panting and writhing, cheek dragging against the wall in time with the thrusts of Castiel’s fingers, and the groans that claw their way out of his throat whenever the angel graces against _that_ spot inside of him are borderline animalistic.

“Fuck, Cas, just get on with it already…!” He shoves his hips back, trying to gain some momentum, but Castiel’s fingers only curl inside him, sending his body reeling into a near fit of euphoric convulsions as the angel releases a punishing flicker of grace from his fingertips. Dean’s head is still swimming in exhilaration when the digits withdraw from his body, and it takes him a moment to recognize the sound from behind as Castiel’s slacks come undone with the low crunch of the zipper.

He closes his eyes, waiting, and when the other finally pushes inside him, his entire body goes lax against the wall with a breathless moan because, oh yeah, Castiel is going to let him have it so good this time...

“First lesson, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is low and collected, but there’s a throaty thickness to it that gives him away, and Dean feels his skin prickle when the angel’s left hand pushes its way under his clothes and further up his spine. “Say ‘please’.”

“Please,” Dean echoes obediently, arching his back in appreciation when Castiel drags blunt nails down his spine.

“Again.”

“ _Please_.” He groans anew, hips rolling. “Cas, please, give it to me.”

“Good…” Castiel gives a single, shallow thrust, and the hand on Dean’s back leaves only to reappear, tangling softly in his hair once more as Castiel leans forward and whispers against his neck:

“Now, ask me permission.”

Dean licks his lips. There’s a tone to the angel’s voice that he recognizes, and the intentions it implies make his cock twitch expectantly.

“Permission to do what?” he asks, a light quiver to his voice.

“To move.”

Dean’s fingers curl against the wall, balling into fists.

“And what if I don’t want to do that?” he rasps back. “What if think you should man up a little and put your back into it, huh?” The response is immediate and his insides twist into a pleasurable knot of sexual tension when he feels the fingers in his hair tighten their grip.

“Mind your manners, Dean,” Castiel growls. “Or I’m going to have to discipline you for those as well.”

Dean stiffens when he feels the strong breeze of Castiel’s wings as they swoop forward, crowding his sides. He can almost feel the vibrations of the grace that ripples through the air between them and his skin, and he flinches involuntarily when Castiel’s voice returns, low and dangerous, right next to his ear.

“Ask me, Dean. And make sure you do it nicely.”

The gasp Dean makes at that sounds close to deafening to his own ears, and as he licks his lips slowly he can feel Castiel twitch inside him, as if the sight of Dean’s predicament excites him. Dean doesn’t blame him; it does a pretty good job at exciting him too.

“Cas, you’re killing me here…” He hesitates, swallowing thickly. He tries to shift his weight; just an experimental attempt of movement, but he doesn’t get very far. The hand tightly wrapped around the jut of his hip holds him in place, preventing him from moving so much as an inch. He tries again with more force, but with the same result, and he lets out a low curse under his breath only to drag in a startled gasp a split second later when an inky black wing drags up the inside of his thigh.

“Fuck…!”

“I thought I told you to mind your manners,” Castiel growls and Dean yelps when the second wing slots up and folds around his torso. The grace buzzes and fizzles against his skin, but it’s still contained, thank God. Dean cants his head back, panting as he tries to shake the haze from his vision, but it’s hard, so incredibly hard. Especially since he can feel the feathers shift and shove their way beneath his t-shirt to swipe tauntingly across his chest and nipples, making him hiss as he tries to gather up his mind enough to at least think.

“I’m waiting, Dean.”

“Okay, okay…! Shi—...” Dean barely manages to cut himself off as he recalls what happened the last time he cursed. “Cas, I want to move,” he pants. “I want you to let me move, please.”

“Will you behave if I do?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise, I promise..! I—ah!”

He doesn’t get to finish whatever it is he’s about to promise, because Castiel is already pulling him back, by the hip _and_ the hair, and Dean lets out an open-mouthed yell when his prostate receives the full force of the movement. He’s given enough time to brace his arm against the wall before Castiel pulls out and slams back in, and the wing around Dean’s chest momentarily surges with something that steals the air out of his all-too-human lungs.

Technically, Castiel had ordered Dean to ask for his permission to move, but it turns out the angel doesn’t seem interested in letting him do anything of the sort. He pounds into the human before him with, raw, lustful thrusts that make Dean’s eyes roll back in his head and cause stars to erupt behind his closed eyelids. It’s everything Dean had hoped for it to be; from the borderline painful grip in his hair to the electric tingle on the back of his tongue, caused by the grace crackling across his skin. Fuck, he loves it like this. Splayed out at the mercy of an angel; a forceful, dominant, _lethal_ force capable of tearing him apart at any second. It’s intoxicating, addictive and the fact that he knows that Castiel would never intentionally hurt him does nothing to lessen the thrill. The angel knows this, of course, and he exploits it to the very last drop, whenever Dean lets him.

A forceful snap of Castiel’s hips leaves him breathless, mouth moving around the soundless syllables that spill over his lips, and Dean’s right hand leaves the wall, grappling for the one on his hip to steady himself. He feels the cold air as it strokes across the heat of his slickened skin and all of a sudden he’s right there, balancing on a knife’s edge of pleasure that shoots searing heat through his veins.

“Wait! Cas, wait—!”

He’s not aware of what it is that spins him around, or how it happens. One second he’s facing the wall and the next he’s staring into Castiel’s eyes as the other grabs hold of his thighs and lifts him until Dean's back is pressing against the wall, with Castiel's ebony wings curling around his body like an extra set of limbs. Castiel’s eyes are dark, but Dean can still see the same bluish glow of grace that he feels in the fibres of the feathers that graze his skin; sees it spark in the depths of those dilated pupils when the angel pushes inside him once more. The groan that whispers past the angel’s lips as he does makes Dean’s very insides quake.

The temporary interruption takes the edge off, but this new angle is better, something Castiel makes sure Dean becomes acutely aware of, very fast. It doesn’t take long before Dean is clinging to Castiel’s shoulders, gripping so tight he can feel the prickling in his fingers as they start to go numb, but he can’t let go. Cas’s eyes are half shut, the muscles in his arms are tense and Dean can feel him move beneath him, inside him, around him and it is like bliss and torture and sweet, sweet agonizing heaven all at once. Castiel’s wings have pulled back, and now the angel is using them to hold his balance as he fucks up into the man in his arms; dirty and raw, just like the noises his actions punch out of Dean’s chest with each thrust.

Dean is fighting to keep his eyes open, because he wants to see it. He wants to see when Castiel starts to lose himself in the heat, when he gives in to the pleasure and the line between angel and human wears so thin it can be snapped with a single whisper. When the grace burns like silver mist within his eyes and explodes into a million stars between them; like a galaxy imploding and shattering the infinity of space with blinding light and deafening silence.

It’s Dean’s favourite part, and he watches greedily as the glow in Castiel’s eyes starts to shimmer, starts to glisten, and he lets out a hungry whimper when the first flash of something even brighter bursts across the angel’s irises.

“Oh, yeah…”

Castiel’s eyes snap up to his and his lips pull up in a snarl before he pushes them against Dean’s with possessive fervour.

“Ask me,” he growls against the hunter’s lips, voice raw and tight. “Ask me permission.”

Fuck, it’s the hottest thing Dean’s ever heard during sex in his entire life, and if he wasn’t close before then he sure as hell is now. He pulls back, his head thudding against the wall as he seeks out Castiel’s eyes and holy shit, they’re actually glowing now; lit up like flaming beacons in the sudden dusk of the room.

“Can I come?” Dean breathes, and the grace before him flares in response.

“Again.”

“Can I come? Please, Cas…” Fuck, he’s so close, he’s so close he can taste it. “Please, I wanna come,” he whimpers. “Please, Cas, let me come, please…!”

“Dean…”

Dean feels his insides twist at the sound of Castiel’s voice, and then suddenly Castiel turns his head away, shutting his eyes.

“Close your eyes,” he hisses, but Dean shakes his head.

“I wanna see…” he pants.

“Dean, close your eyes…!”

Dean’s one hand lets go of Castiel’s shoulder and grabs a shaking hold around the angel’s jaw, turning it back to face him.

“Let me see you, Cas. I wanna see you.”

Castiel’s jaw goes slack and Dean’s heart thuds against the inside of his chest so hard he loses his ability to breathe when Castiel’s eyes flutter open and lock onto his; dazed, bewildered and painstakingly beautiful. For a moment all other light seems to drain from the world as Castiel’s grace pushes against the limit and Castiel gasps, eyelids closing, and Dean only manages to catch a glimpse of the light that bleeds through the angel’s eyelashes before dark wings rush in to flood his vision. They cover him, cradle him in a cage of velvet and satin as Castiel’s graze bursts forth. For a moment Dean feels invulnerable, immortal, as the surge through the protective shell of Castiel’s feathers blazes across his skin and scorches his senses and together it all becomes too much.

He comes. His voice cracks as he muffles his cry amongst Castiel’s quills, limbs shaking with the force of his climax as it’s magnified to a billion due to the grace chasing through his system. It’s too much for a human body to handle, and he knows that he’s going to black out even before he feels his release hurl him over the edge, spiralling and flooding his senses until his mind can’t take any more.

When he comes back he finds himself sitting on the floor with Castiel kneeling in between his legs. Castiel’s wings are still trembling, pulled behind the angel’s back once more and Dean can feel his own muscles twitch and curl in on themselves while the last jolts of his orgasm wreck through his body. Somewhere, on a different plane of his consciousness, he knows, somehow, that he’s been cleaned and he slowly sits up a bit higher, wincing slightly at the ache coming from his backside.

“That…” he gulps down a breath, grimacing at his own sore throat. “Was the hottest thing we’ve done so far.”

Castiel flickers a glance at him from underneath his eyelashes and lets out a snort through his nose.

“I guess you could say that it was… interestingly provocative.” He agrees and Dean chuckles, tipping his head back against the wall.

“Yeah…”

He shudders pleasantly when he feels Castiel’s hands smooth down the length of his calves.

“You do need to watch your language, though,” the angel points out. “I know you do it to vex me, but it’s still my father you’re talking about.”

“Sorry.” Dean chuckles again when Castiel’s fingers grace against the back of his knees, making them twitch. “It’s just hard. I know you like it when you get to exert some of that holy retribution on me.”

“True,” Castiel nods. “Then again, I have a sneaking suspicion that you don’t exactly mind.”

“True,” Dean grins. “I’ll have to remember to use that dirty mouth of mine whenever I want to get me some from you in the future.”

“Watch yourself,” Castiel warns. ”I’m not above laying you across my lap and spanking you if it serves to get my point across.”

“You’d do that?” Dean straightens up, suddenly very attentive, and for a moment Castiel looks a bit taken aback by his reaction before he leans in closer.

“I could,” he whispers and Dean hums, licking his lips.

“I bet… Maybe next time?”

“Maybe,” Castiel agrees, and then the angel kisses him, soft and tender. Castiel’s lips move lazily and slowly against his, and when Dean moans into the kiss it makes the wings behind Castiel’s back ripple with something Dean can only describe as contentment.

“So…” he breathes when they pull apart again, and he has to clear his throat from the sudden croak that threatens to overtake it. “Apart from blasphemy; what other commandments do I have to break in order for us to do all that again?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please, leave some feedback so that I can improve my writing!  
> Thank you for reading <3


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